


Recovery

by carrionkid



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:40:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6046873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionkid/pseuds/carrionkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I tried to explore Spencer's feelings post 02x15 based on my own experiences with PTSD.<br/>--<br/>Recovery was thinking about the statistical likelihood of being involved in two hostage situations in which he’d tried to use the bible to get out of it and failing both times. It was wondering exactly what that said about the existence of a God.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recovery

i.

Recovery was thinking about the statistical likelihood of being involved in two hostage situations in which he’d tried to use the bible to get out of it and failing both times. It was wondering exactly what that said about the existence of a God. Reid found himself stumbling through life like a blind man; John 9:1-12, he thinks to himself, and searches for something to prove that this happened for a reason. He wishes he could have faith like Morgan, even if that faith has wavered. Instead, he has dilaudid, and a makeshift altar in every syringe he owned. 

 

No one ever has as much faith as a dead man; nothing rang more true than the times he’d pleaded for God to save him on the floor of a cabin. Whenever people ask him why he’s studying philosophy, Reid has to try to find something more acceptable to say than ‘I was held hostage for days, got addicted to drugs, died, came back to life, and am trying to figure out why all of this happened’ even though it’s true.

 

ii.

Recovery was like a plate thrown at the ground. Reid could probably calculate how much force it took for it to shatter and where each of the pieces went, but if he tried to glue it back together, something would always be missing. The miniscule pieces would slip away, be sweeped up by some well meaning bystander, but those pieces would always be missing. The plate would never be whole again.  _ So why _ , he asks,  _ am I still sitting here trying to put it back together? Why am I still cutting my hands on the edges? What use is all this blood, all this pain?  _

 

It’s days like this when Reid’s hands shake too much to use a knife, when he realizes that he knows exactly where and how to cut so that he would still be able to carry on. It’s days like these when he realizes that if he gives in, he’s just letting  ~~ Charles ,  Raphael ~~ , Tobias, win.

 

iii.

Recovery was messy and disgusting and humiliating. It was waking up screaming on the plane and feeling eyes all over your skin; it was every meltdown he’s ever had rolled into one. Reid’s first instinct is to brush it off, but there’s only so many times you can wake up screaming  **_‘HELP, HELP, HE’S GOT ME, I DON’T KNOW WHERE I AM, CAN ANYONE HEAR ME? CAN ANYONE HELP ME?’_ ** before people start asking questions. 

 

Even just falling asleep sitting up has become a trigger, a reminder of the cabin, of the noises and the smells and the sounds. Each time Reid jolts awake, each time his neck aches from the strange sleeping position, the track-marks on his arms burn and he almost finds himself pleading for some dilaudid, for something to stop the pain. A voice still whispers in the back of his head, saying over and over again that it helps, and Reid can’t help but wonder if he’ll turn out like Tobias. If he’ll be his last victim, even though he escaped the cabin years ago.

 

iv.

Recovery was calling Elle at three in the morning when he can’t sleep. Reid sobs and sobs and she just listens. He finally understands what she meant by still being able to feel his hand inside her. Elle checks up on him every chance she gets. She finds out when they both go to a support group for survivors. Reid’s always had a touch aversion, he tries to deny that it’s gotten worse, but Elle always hugs him so tightly. The pressure is welcome and she understands better than anyone else on the team. 

 

It’s not like he could just go ask Morgan or Prentiss or even J.J to hug him until he feels real again. Sometimes he does ask Garcia, who pinky promised that she would never tell anyone. Sometimes Reid goes to Elle’s house, sometimes to Garcia’s apartment. He’s seen both of their scars and they’ve seen his. Reid’s’ shown the track marks on his arms from Tobias and the ones on his legs from himself. If he’d been shooting up using his arms, people would’ve asked questions; well, more questions. 

 

v.

Recovery was never feeling like you were real. It was constantly drifting outside of your body, controlling it from afar. Part of him knows he’ll never get back to where he used to be and part of him is okay with that. Another part of him wonders if the person he used to be died when he did. If that’s the case, then who woke up after Tobias resuscitated him? (A darker part of him wonders if he should’ve lived at all, if he’s better off dead.) He realizes it probably isn’t healthy to never feel like a real human being, but life is meant to be lived even if it feels like he’s living a lie. 

 

There’s an unspoken rule in Reid’s life that if he doesn’t have to get help, he won’t. It’s been this way since he was a kid, and he’s certain that what his mother did could be counted as abuse. He’s been programmed to put others before him, even if it’s eating him alive. Reid loves his mother, but it’s taken years to come to terms with the fact that a little kid, no matter how smart, shouldn’t be the one taking care of his mother. 

 

vi.

Recovery wasn’t a constant, or a switch flipped from Broken to Recovered. Of all the things Reid knew, he was most certain of this. Sometimes it was an uphill path paved with broken glass and nails; sometimes it was going out for drinks with the rest of the team. It was one foot in front of the other, no matter how hard it was to take that step. It was training himself to reach out and get help, it was everyone on the team. It was learning how to speak when you’re used to swallowing word after word, scream after scream. 

 

It was a process with no quantitative end goal, which is something Reid isn’t used to. He’s familiar with numbers, with clear cut beginnings and middles and ends. He’s not used to having to profile himself, but when he feels like a stranger, what else can he do?


End file.
